Box Blondes Have Less Fun
by Miyuku-tan
Summary: Peterick. AU. Pete has a thing for blondes, sorta. He just never thought he would end up liking guy. But not everyone is willing to be Pete Wentz' boyfriend that easily. Besides, the kid is prettier and smarter than any other blondie. /Oneshot


**I have no idea where to put this on . *shrugs* No proofread, and first Peterick ever.**

Pete kinda likes sunny days.

And no, it's not because it's another excuse to get one more cone of strawberry ice cream, or maybe get a tan. And it's not like he hated rainy days because his hair would get damp or ruin his eyeliner, or to Pete's defense, his guyliner. Sometimes he would tell himself that rains because the clouds are silently crying, just so he would lie to himself and think that he is not the only one who cried regularly.

He likes sunny days because this kid always sits on the corner of the bench at the soccer court, playing on his acoustic guitar with a notepad next to him. The kid had blonde hair. Well, not exactly blonde. More like strawberry blonde perhaps. From what Pete could see with his brown eyes, was that the kid was always wearing a cap. The strands of strawberry blonde hair were sticking to his creamy white skin because of the hot weather.

Most of the time the kid's back was facing Pete, but sometimes he would forget about the soccer game just to see the teen's face properly. From what he had seen so far, the kid was wearing glasses. What was the color of his eyes? What was the shape of his lips? Pete's brown eyes could never capture his face properly, besides he could barely see half of the teen's face.

The kid was short, with baggy jeans with two ripped wholes at both knees. He was always wearing a watch too. Many different watches. Wristbands too.

He would play his guitar while singing with a low voice. His slightly chubby fingers would play with the strings of the guitar. He would raise an eyebrow at the noise then tune his guitar. Sometimes his awkward expression would light up like a bulb, and then scribble something quickly down on his notepad next to him.

And when he had finished with his songwriting, he smiled. It wasn't awkward nor excessive, it was just simply a calm, comforting smile. Like every sound in the world was on mute and all Pete could hear was his own mind imagining what the kid's voice would sound like.

Sometimes he considered running to the boy, just to hear his voice. But the sound of an aggressive coach and his whistle would snap him out of his own questions and focus on the game.

"What the fuck was that, Wentz?"

Pete stood in front of his coach with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. He could hear his teammates warming up behind him. Yelling stuff like _someone's in trouble_ and other insults. Silly things like that didn't bother him though. After all he is no different than his mates.

When his coach had finally finished his speak of rage, and how practisepractisepractise is important, he desperately turned around to look at the teen again, but he was already gone.

Damp filled the male locker room as Pete got out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist. He grabbed another towel from the bench and began to towel-dry his hair. The voice of his coach was stuck on replay in his mind. Even though his coach had never said it straight to his face, Pete was, with no doubt, hopeless. Fussing over a guy he had never met, heck, he doesn't even know the shape of the boy's face, and yet it is like he is madly in love with him.

No way, he was not gay. Sure, he may have made out with a _few _guys on a _few _parties but it was nothing special, right? It's not like he was aware of what he was doing, or remembered it the next day until someone would remind at school.

He wasn't ashamed of it either. He was ashamed by the fact that he wasn't ashamed! He would never do a guy, just kiss. A little bit of kissing was fine. Lips are just lips after all.

Pete kept mentally beating himself up with how he had to step it up and focus more on soccer. The bass in the corner of his room was definitely not going to get him anywhere after high school.

He was hopeless at playing bass too.

When he had his clothes on and got out of the locker room, he felt something soft brush lightly against his shoulder. Pete was used to the freshman's being late for class, or studying later after school. So he would purposively bump them real hard and make them fall backwards and hit the floor, books and papers flying in the air while pencils lay scattered on the floor. Just for the heck of it. He liked watching the kids frantically pick up their stuff and run to their next class, and if it was a good day for Pete, he would make them trip on purpose.

When Pete felt the other shoulder against his, he braced himself, dragged his shoulder backwards, and hit real hard. Pete did not bother to look at the kid and kept his eyes on exit door.

He heard a whiny noise coming from the kiddo's closed mouth. Even though the sound was muffled, he could tell that the range was different than the other kids. It was a special kind of voice, not the typical low, rough voices men usually have. And from the sound of it, the kid most likely hit his head on the floor.

He heard the boy hit the floor and smiled a chesshire grin.

'_Victory.'_ He thought as he heard papers flying in the air, but not long after his eyes widened at the sound of a guitar hitting the floor really hard, the recently tuned guitar echoing in the hallway.

For a few seconds, the world was suddenly on mute again and the only thing Pete could hear was the sound of his own heartbeat beating harder and faster against his ribs as he slowly turned around to look at the boy.

It was the kid from the bench, rubbing his aching head with his eyes shut.

The first thing Pete noticed was his big, pink lips. They looked moist and super soft. And pink. Wait, he already said that. Yeah, super duper pink. And a gorgeous lower lip. He wanted to bite it and make it bleed, but on the other hand he did not want to damage it either. It was a treasure.

And then Pete immediately regretted hitting him. After all he was just a kid.

'_Shitshitshitshit.'_

"I'm sorry, here."

Pete reached out his hand, and the kid let out an annoyed sigh and grabbed the older man's hand. Pete studied the teen's fingertips; he had obviously been playing too much guitar. His hand was smaller than his, but his palm was sweaty.

When the kid got up, Pete was finally able to look into his eyes. They were blocked by a pair of thick glasses, but they were green, with a hint of blue. Or blue with a hint of green. His hair was tucked in place with a cap and the ends of the strawberry blonde hair were slightly curly. And _god _with the adorable shape of his eyes, face and lips the kid was the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen, and he stood there with wide eyes and moth staring like a fool.

"Uhm, you can let go of my hand now."

Pete let go of the boy's hand like he had touching something dangerous or had been bitten by a snake. And he wasn't shocked by the fact that the dude was drop, dead gorgeous, but he was finally able to hear his voice. For the first time, ever. And he had dreamed about this for weeks, but he never had the guts to actually talk to the guy, cause HELL he must be at least 12 or maybe 13.

"What's your name?" Pete asked, and then he noticed the lyrics scattered all over the floor.

"Patrick." He said.

"Patrick…" Pete said and chuckled silently. He liked it. He liked the way it just rolled of his tongue. "Patrick." He said one more time, this time a big horse-grin following after.

"Uh, yeah." Patrick said then rolled his eyes with an awkward blush complimenting his face.

"My name is Pete,"

Patrick hesitated before answering. He wasn't really anti-social or anything. But this dude was smiling at him while repeating his name. Not to mention he had just knocked him over, and all of a sudden he looks like he wants devour him. But Patrick was often fooled by his own naivety.

"Nice to meet you." He said after a few silent seconds. This time he could feel is cheeks burn, and not because this was awkward, but because the look in Pete's in was something he sort of seen before by other guys. Just that this guy was _kind of _hot.

And when the thought striked him he immediately regretted thinking such a thing about another guy.

"How old are you?" The tanner and slightly taller man asked and his pedo-smile had finally faded into a friendly smile. Patrick cursed himself for blushing.

"I'm sixteen." Patrick said and tried to look up at Pete with a serious face, but Pete was no fool. The fact that Patrick tried so hard to make a cold and serious expression was just simply cute. Patrick had dealt with people thinking he was younger before and it seemed like no matter what he did he would never convince people that he _was _a teenager.

And Pete was right, Patrick was _still_ younger, even though he was somehow older.

"I see." Was all Pete managed to say.

Today was not sunny, but it wasn't raining either. Patrick was wearing an over-sized grey hoodie, his usual worn out pants and white sneakers. He was wearing his 'I heart Bingo' cap. The wind was warm and Patrick thought that the weather was just perfect. He looked at the empty soccer court and smiled to himself, he had a lot of great memories here. He was happy the he was able to look at those stupid jocks getting injured or their coach yelling at them while they looked down at their shoes, full of shame.

Patrick chuckled to himself, it's not like he had any friends. Joe, for example, he had met him in a record shop and apparently they had a lot in common. Not many of his other friends were interested in music, and Patrick rocked his legs back on fourth as he mumbled a melody. He quickly got his guitar and notepad and began to write lyrics to the melody he just came up with.

"You know, it's very interesting to look at your face while you're working."

Patrick instantly recognized that mocking voice. He looked up from his work and there was Pete, with his hands in his hoodie pockets and a toothy grin. The calm, warm wind slightly brushed away Pete's black bangs away from his face, allowing Patrick to look into those big brown eyes.

"Where were you during lunch?" Pete asked while trying to sound as innocent as possible while he tilted his head to the side.

Earlier that week Pete had all if a sudden decided that they were officially going to eat lunch together, with Pete's friend or Patrick's friends. Or just the two of them. And Pete preferably wanted the two of them to eat together, just him and Patrick. But Patrick on the other hand wanted to eat alone.

"I was nowhere." Patrick said, and Pete gave him an unsatisfied expression in return. And Patrick blushed, slightly ashamed of himself for giving such an immature answer.

Then Pete noticed the hint of pink on Patrick's cheeks and decided that he would tease him a bit.

"You blush a lot" he said.

"Shut up!" Patrick said a bit louder than planned, and his cheeks were now bright pink.

Then all of a sudden Pete had this look in his eyes that sent shivers down Patrick's spine. Pete stepped closer to Patrick and removed his guitar from his tight grip and replaced it with his hand instead.

"Do you dislike me, Patrick?"

Patrick quickly turned his head around, avoiding eye contact. That look in Pete's eyes was something strange, but it wasn't necessarily negative.

"Look at me." Pete ordered.

When Patrick refused to face him, Pete traced his fingers down Patrick's jaw which caused him to shiver. Then he turned Patrick's head around and kissed him.

Pete had waited for this; he waited for the feel of Patrick's soft lips against his. He loved the feel of Patrick's breath against his cheek. Patrick did not respond, but when Pete slipped his tongue past his lips and wrapped his arms around his waist, all he could do was moan into the kiss and relax.

Suddenly there was no more wind, and it started raining heavily. Patrick wrapped his arms around Pete's neck while Pete's tongue played with his. Sooner or later he had struggles with breathing and made a whiny noise in the back of his throat. Pete understood, and bit Patrick's lower lip gently before he broke the kiss.

Even though they were both soaked wet, Pete felt incredibly warm and simply held Patrick's hand with his other arms still wrapped around his waist and smiled;

"Perfect weather today, don't you agree?"


End file.
